


Comfort zone

by ardvari



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardvari/pseuds/ardvari
Summary: He is not a cat person and she knows this. He is a dog person through and through and he has told her on multiple occasions that he finds the cat’s independence worrisome.





	Comfort zone

**Author's Note:**

> Peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and Schroedinger's cat, oh my!

**Comfort Zone**

He is not a cat person and she knows this. He is a dog person through and through and he has told her on multiple occasions that he finds the cat’s independence worrisome. 

She loves the cat and the fact that the cat lets the neighbors feed him when she’s gone. The cat is easy and laid back, and while he likes hanging out with her, he has outside friends, too. 

She still remembers when she explained to Jack that all orange cats are male, that their color is directly linked to their gender. She remembers this because of the way he stared at her after, had asked her, “Is there anything you _don’t know_ , Carter?”

In his expert opinion there are very few things she can’t do, and even those things she can probably figure out eventually. He’s gotten so used to her brilliance that he asks her about all the things he doesn’t quite get, knowing that she will be able to explain them. By now she knows how to explain things to him without making his head spin. 

She only uses her techno babble when she’s mad at him or when she wants to get rid of him because she needs to concentrate. He knows that, too. 

With the cat curled up against her thigh, she is working on her laptop, her feet propped up on her coffee table. The Ori problem is huge and looming, and this is her only night off in forever. She has to write her reports and run some scans, and the fact that he is here, had been here at her house all day, is welcome and grounding. 

He let her work, had cleaned her rain gutters earlier and is now making supper. This worries her because they’re both equally bad at cooking and earlier something fell and broke on the kitchen floor. She doesn’t have a barbecue and that is usually his first option when it comes to cooking for her. 

There is some swearing, too, followed by something smelling very burned. She won’t go in and help him, he likes doing things for her and would shoo her out anyways. When he gets the chance to be around her, he dotes on her a lot, refuses to let her help. She is used to that by now, enjoys it even. Out there in the galaxy she always has to worry and think and make sure the team is on the same page. Here, now, she doesn’t have to worry, she can just be, she can let him worry instead. 

The cat stares up at him when he enters the living room, balancing a platter on his hand. She can’t see what’s on it and he smiles crookedly at her. The cat glares, stretches his paws, yawns. A display of armament she knows will make Jack hiss at the orange devil later. 

Jack and Schrödinger battle for her attention, a battle that leaves Jack with bloody scratches more often than not. At night the cat likes to wedge his way between them, his tail flicking Jack’s nose repeatedly. The cat does it on purpose, they both know that.

“What’s for supper?” she asks, still unable to see what’s on the platter. 

He gives her a look she knows well, sheepish and apologetic. He’s been in the kitchen for two hours and presents her with a platter of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“It’s your favorite jelly,” he says, pointing to the thickly layered elderberry jelly oozing out from between the bread. 

She can’t keep herself from smiling, thinks it’s cute how hard he tries. He could have ordered pizza when his plans started to crumble but instead he made the only thing he knew how to “cook” because he had promised her homemade food.

She slides off the couch onto the floor and he does the same, leaning back against the couch before they dig into their supper. Her shoulder brushes his and she smiles. 

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“For being great and funny and for remembering that my favorite jelly is elderberry and for trying to cook me supper,” she answers sincerely.

He smiles back, obviously pleased with himself. She scoots closer to him, reaches out a hand and brings his mouth down to hers so she can lick a bit of jelly off his bottom lip. 

Behind them, the cat sighs in his sleep, one eye half open to warily watch Jack.


End file.
